Caring for Hook
by CommodoreOblivious
Summary: For some reason she's woken up on the ship of the man she thought she'd helped to kill. He's alive, ill, and needs her help. Older Wendy x Hook.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan. At all. The rights to it will remain with J. M. Barrie, his family, and Disney.

She woke to chaos. Glass was shattered and lying in a glittering lake across the floorboards. Bedclothes were tattered and shredded, hanging half off of the desk on the other side of the room. Ink pooled close, threatening to stain the remaining sheets a midnight black. Books, quills, portraits, and other objects--broken, ripped and otherwise damaged--littered the devastated room. Even the walls looked to have been scored with some sharp object.

Wendy Darling, a woman with curling waves of chestnut tresses, emerald eyes, and petite figure, looked more closely at her surroundings. This was not London. Curious and somewhat concerned, she stood from the bed, her peach nightdress swaying about her ankles gently. The gentle rocking beneath her bare feet showed that she was on board a ship of some kind. How could she have gotten to a ship without waking? How long had she been asleep? Had she been drugged? There was no way she could have slept naturally having been kidnapped from her bed and through this devastation.

She stepped over what looked to be a small mountain of goose-down, which in reality was a large pillow with a gaping tear down the middle. She winced at the sudden pain she felt in her left foot accompanied by a faint twinkling of splintered glass. Examining her foot, she found a small sliver stuck there. She plucked it out and wiped at the small dot of blood forming. Where she'd stepped was the broken remains of a pocket watch--damaged so that the the inner gears were exposed.

It took Wendy a few moments of exploring the cabin to notice some sort of low sound. She stopped breathing for a moment to better hear it. Was that an animal? Could it be a mouse catching cat? Considering the horrid state of the cabin, the poor thing could be hurt. Or was it her captor? The growl was coming from behind the overturned table. Walking as slowly and quietly as she could, Wendy made her way across the messy floorboards. Her hand came involuntarily at what she saw.

The man she'd once told stories about to her brothers, the man that had captivated her with his beauty and that distinct aura of danger, the most dangerous pirate in all of Neverland--Captain James Hook-- sat in a heap upon the floor. His clothes were torn in places, the once beautiful velvet coat now ruined beyond repair. His neat black curls tangled and matted against his head.

Her gaze instinctively went to his eyes, hoping to see the beautiful, intelligent, forget-me-not. Wendy felt a surge of fear when her emerald met an angry scarlet that matched his coat. She'd told of his eyes flashing red just before he killed a person, but never this unrelenting, never-ending, blood red. He didn't seem to be able to see her standing before him. The growling hadn't stopped either. An odd sound, certainly, coming from deep in his throat.

Wendy forced herself to stand her ground. She couldn't retreat. Not while he was sprawled on the ground, held up only with the aid of the table, as he was. She may have once feared this man and wished him dead, but she was no longer a child. It was he who'd shown her that in a roundabout way. He needed her help. "Captain?"

Insane red eyes turned upon her. She could hear the growling much better now and Wendy realized that it was indeed getting louder. His hand came up, slowly, and in it was a pistol. Her eyes grew large in fear. "Please don't shoot, Captain! I mean you no harm," she took a step toward him--slowly, carefully. "It's all right."

Feeling as though she were calming a savage dog, she made sure to make no quick movements and continued to murmurer softly words that meant nothing, their only purpose to sooth. Close enough to touch him now, she focused on the pistol aimed straight at her chest. There was absolutely no hope that he'd miss now. Hesitantly, she reached for the weapon. Hook's hand tightened on the gun, finger slightly exerting pressure on the trigger. Wendy stopped, hand hanging in mid-air. "Captain, there is no one to hurt you. There is no reason for the gun. Can you put it down, please?"

Her eyes followed the gun as it slowly lowered, but she noticed that he kept it in his hand, in sight, on his lap.

"There now, that's better." Words still came from her mouth, though she no longer thought about them. She doubted that he fully understood what she said anyway. However, her words kept him calm, so she kept at it as she examined him.

He didn't seem to be harmed in any way. No blood stained him or his surroundings. Her floating hand slowly continued its way, briefly coming into contact with his skin before he hastily pulled away. The inhuman growl had stopped moments ago when he'd picked up the pistol, but now his eyes narrowed and a warning noise, low and dangerous came from his throat.

She didn't move or back away, simply stood there, letting him regard her. He could determine for himself whether she would hurt him. After a few never-ending moments, Hook haltingly moved back to his original position, scarlet eyes never leaving her face. This time, when she reached out, he did little more that tense when her cool skin met his fevered brow. How long had he been sitting here, fever and all? She didn't think it could be long.

What was she supposed to do? Wendy knew only how to keep a person comfortable through sickness. It was Nanna or Mother who dealt with making the children well again. If it were very bad, a doctor would be called in. She couldn't imagine what she could do for the pirate captain. The first thing to be done would be to get him off of the floor and onto the bed, she imagined.

"Can you stand?" she asked him. The redness of his eyes dulled slightly, calming blue flashing through for a small second. He nodded and started to move. Bending to help him, she reached for his hand, having somehow forgotten about the pistol. His fevered brain must have thought she meant to take it from him. He reared back, hitting the table, the pistol trained on her once more.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Peter Pan, Wendy, Captain Hook, or anyone at all from J. M. Barrie's imagination. Disney's also got some rights in there somewhere.

He reared back, hitting the table, the pistol trained on her once more. A thrill of fear raced in her blood. "Captain? James? Put the gun down, please. I wasn't going to take it. I want to help. Will you let me?"

The red dissipated as he blinked at her in confusion. It returned almost instantly, though he lowered his weapon. Wendy could clearly see that he didn't trust her completely. She backed away from him, giving him enough room to stand on his own. The pirate captain's suspicious gaze locked on hers, never blinking as he unsteadily brought himself to a standing position.

"That's it. Now follow me to the bed. It must be quite a bit more comfortable than the bare floor." Hook walked forward a few paces, swaying slightly. Wendy made sure to stay in reach in case he fell. She got him to the bed safely and let him lay himself down. "Is there any fresh water around?" she asked.

Blue warred with red; fever with lucidity. He waved her towards the exit of the cabin. "Smee..." His voice was rough, as if he'd just been sleeping for eternity.

"Is he on board?" She got no answer. Hook was staring up at the ceiling. His eye lids were already beginning to droop, but he fought sleep. On deck, several of the crew were laying about idly. Wendy had to blink a few times to adjust her eyes from the dim captain's quarters to the sunny Neverland day. _Peter must be enjoying himself_, she thought as she examined the island. She didn't allow herself to dwell on thoughts of Peter. The Captain needed her now, not her Lost Boys and certainly not Peter, who'd taken care of himself quite well since he'd come to Neverland years and years before.

Mr. Smee was no where to be seen. One pirate looked up from his cards as she approached the group while they slouched lazily against the ship, drinking some sort of alcohol, no doubt. "Wat's a lady doin' 'ere?" he asked. The rest of the pirates looked up.

"Ask 'er, lazy bones."

"'Ey lady, wat ye doin' wandrin' 'bout the ship?"

She could smell Hook's crew from paces away. Her nose protested her continued stay in their proximity, but she had to ask: "Where might I find Mr. Smee?"

A burly pirate squinted up at her, before spitting into a pot by his side. "Smee?" he thought for a moment, "He'd be down in th' galley."

Curiosity got the better of her. She just had to know, "What happened to Captain Hook? I thought the crocodile had got him."

"Ye've gots lotsa questions, don'cha lass?" asked the first pirate; the one playing cards. "The croc spat 'im up. Choked tryin' ta eat the cap'n whole. 'E's been in a bad temper since. Shoots at anyone 'oo's stupid 'nough ta go near 'im."

As shocked as she was at the information, it didn't surprise her. She'd barely left the cabin alive.

"Thank you," she told the men. They only nodded and grumbling, returned to their recreation. She climbed down the ladder to the galley. A shock of white hair caught the side of her vision and knew she had the right man. From what she could see, he was peeling an apple with a small knife and eating the small slices.

"Mr. Smee?"

He turned, dropping the apple and the knife at his surprise upon seeing her. "Who're you?"

"Hello yourself, Mr. Smee. You're looking well. It's been a long time since my last visit. You remember me, of course. I can't imagine you've had too many storytellers on board."

"Miss Wendy!" A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. At least someone around here remembered her. "How did you come to be in Neverland? Pan hasn't left for ages! Or was it yesterday..." He trailed off looking as if he were trying to recall something important.

"I don't quite know that myself, Mr. Smee, but I need some clean water and some cloth. Captain Hook is quite ill. He's got a fever and may be close to being delirious. He's got to break out of it soon, or I fear he may die."

Alarmed, he said,"Die? No, no, no! He can't! And ill! 'E hasn't let me in his quarters since the croc spat 'im up." He paused, "How come yer not dead?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know how I got here or why he didn't shoot me. He nearly did, but I managed to get him to his bed. I think that he'll let me help him." Her head cocked slightly to the side as she considered it, "At least, I hope so."

He nodded, "Aye. If 'e didn't kill ye then, I doubt 'e'll kill ye. I shan't risk it, if ye don't mind."

Smiling, she said, "That's all right, Mr. Smee. If I could just have those items? I don't want to leave him on his own for long. It already looks as if he took a terrible offense to his quarters. It's quite a dreadful mess."

A wry smile crossed the first mate's face. "Aye, I'm not surprised. S'happened a few times before. Keeps 'im from takin' his anger out on the crew, anyhow."The Irishman bustled about, gathering her requested items. He handed them to her and helped her to carry up the ladder to the deck.

"I hope you can get him well again, missy."

She waved before turning back towards Hook's cabin, the cloth in her hand waving like the Jolly Roger above her. A few pirates jumped into action as she crossed the deck. Apparently, they thought something important was going to happen and it was safer to have their work done before Hook could see them slacking.

There was no noise in the cabin when Wendy returned. She breathed a sigh of relief and brought the water and cloth with her to the bed. Heavy eyelids lifted slowly to see who was near, but besides that he made no move. Sifting through the debris, she found a clean-looking goblet and filled it with some of the water. "Are you thirsty?"

Wendy took the closing of his eyes as a "no." She laid her free hand on his forehead once more, noting no change. He was either too tired or too sick to make any protest. Running her cloth through the water, after finding a clutter free spot to place the goblet, she wondered whether Hook knew it was Wendy Darling at his aid. If he didn't, would he kill her once he found out? After all, she had helped to send him to the crocodile.

The wash cloth set upon Hooks face, the clashing of cool water and fevered skin clearly startled him awake, if he had indeed been sleeping. He was so quick to sit up that Wendy had to step back lest she be injured. She smiled gently at him, "Lay down, it's just a bit of water."

Glaring silently, he did as he was told. She glanced away from his face and for the first time in years she saw his gleaming hook as it came to rest on his stomach. For a moment, she stared at it in fascination. Secretly, she admired him for it. Not the violent deaths that came of it, but the way the man continued on after losing such an important limb. She wasn't sure she could do it if she were in his place.

For a while, all was quiet. Wendy gently bathed his skin as he watched her. A tune she'd once heard and could only vaguely remember hearing popped into her head and she hummed along as she worked. When she looked up from re-wetting her cloth, she realized that he was no longer watching her. His eyes were closed and his breathing even.

_Good_, she thought, _It's much easier to do this without those disturbing red eyes glaring up at me_.

Hesitantly, she reached for the pistol that lay loosely grasped in his hand. Slowly, she picked it up and placed it on the desk across the room. Wendy bathed his skin once more before turning to the ruined cabin in general. "Best if I start now, I think."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I still don't own it. Never will. Sorry.

"Best if I start now, I think."

She'd cleaned the nursery more times than she cared to count, but this was infinitely worse. Nearly everything was broken, shattered, or in various states of disrepair. "James Hook, you'd better not get used to this," she sighed.

For hours she alternated between caring for Hook and returning his cabin to order. Mr. Smee, the kind fellow, even thought to bring her supper. It was dark when she stepped back to admire her handiwork. In Wendy's fanciful mind, the room sparkled in the light of the candles. She was startled out of her sense of accomplishment when she heard a groan. Turning to face the captain, she hoped he was still sleeping. Of course, her eyes met with his menacing blue.

Wait... Blue? It was true; his eyes were the familiar forget-me-not that had entranced her even as a child. She moved to place her hand upon his forehead to check his temperature, but he dodged and batted her hand away.

"What the deuce are you doing, woman? Lay your hands on my person again and I'll gut you."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to check your fever. You've been asleep all day."

The Captain's gaze swept over her, making her feel slightly uncomfortable. "I know you..." he murmured.

"Yes, you do."

His head tilted slightly to the side as he searched his infinite memory. Recognition flashed across his features. "Red Handed Jill..."

She smiled wistfully. "It's Wendy now. Though the passion for stories hasn't changed."

"I'm sure it hasn't," he looked about his cabin before turning his attention back to her, "What brings you to Neverland, my beauty? And to my ship of all places?" Despite his polite words was an anger that took her breath from her. Tears threatened to fall from her delicate lashes. She had been just a child when she'd helped to banish him to the crocodile which had always hungered for his flesh and blood. Surely she didn't deserve this anger.

"Or perhaps you've come to ease your own guilt? Did precious Wendy lose sleep knowing that she, in part, killed a man? For all you knew, I was dead. Eaten by that blasted crocodile!"

"I did, but-"

"But what? You wanted to 'make things right'? It's too late for that. You'll have to live with the fact that you attempted murder. You're no better than I."

Wendy escape those angry eyes. All that he said was true. Except she hadn't wanted to come at all. She'd gone to sleep in her own bed and had woken in his. She idly wondered whether she'd ever be able to get home. What would she do until she could return? What would she do if she couldn't?

The Captain was quiet for a long while. Wendy, curious, brushed away stray tears and looked up at him. His eyes were traveling around his quarters. "You fixed everything..." his words startled her.

"Y-yes. It was such a must have been in horrible temper."

He nodded, but said no more on the subject. "It was you, then. You got me from the floor and brought me to my bed," his brows furrowed, "Why would you do that?"

"I wasn't about to leave you on the floor suffering. You could have died had your fever gone up any higher. Believe what you want about me, Captain," she emphasized his title as if it were no more than a curse, "I'm not cruel."

He stared at her, his face impassive, before he burst out laughing. "Indeed you're not, my beauty. Haven't lost your spirit, I see."

Rather than answer, she asked, "Do you need anything? Food? Water?"

He shook his head slightly, sending curls dancing. The bed creaked as the pirate lay down. However, he kept his eyes on her.

"If I wanted to hurt you, I could have left you on the floor. You can trust me."

An eyebrow lifted, "Can I really?"

"Or not. I'm not the one recovering from a fever. I'm not leaving and you're tired. You might as well sleep."

Arms crossed across his chest stubbornly. "I think it is you who are tired, storyteller. You've been quite busy this day, as I see it. You're leaning against that bedpost as if it's the only thing keeping you standing."

She pushed herself away from said bedpost. Wendy hadn't realized she'd been using it as a support. "Then what do you propose we do, Captain?"

He pat the bed next to him. "Sit and tell me a story, if you please."

Wendy situated herself a little ways away from him, debating if she should tell him a story. It was almost surreal, her sitting next to him in his cabin, on his bed, with a request that she tell him a story. She felt herself lean back into the headboard. She was very tired.

She wasn't sure which of them drifted off first, but the next thing she knew, her eyes were open and she was surrounded by warmth and the smell of cigars and a scent she didn't recognize. Realizing at last where and who she was with, Wendy tried to pull away. Her nightdress caught on something sharp.

"Don't move, lass, or it's likely you'll regret it." She looked up at his tired face with its uneven beard and smirking mouth. He slowly unhooked himself, literally, from her. He winced slightly as he did so.

"What's wrong?"

"Damn contraption," he muttered, rubbing at his chest through his clothes.

Wendy admitted to herself that it probably wasn't a good idea to let him sleep with whatever held his hook to his arm still attached. It was odd that she'd never thought about how he kept the hook on. It was as if it were actually part of the man and not some tool. She reached for the remaining buttons on his jacket, wondering how the garment was still in one piece with all the gashes and abuse it had taken. He smacked her arm away with his hand.

"What do you think-"

"Let me see," she interrupted him before he could rant.

"No."

"Quit being so stubborn. You're acting just as Micheal used to when bath-time came about."

"Bring Smee, he'll do it."

She rolled her eyes at his childishness. "Mr. Smee is busy keeping your crew in order. I, on the other hand, am available right now."

He relented, but only after taking a long enough pause to let her know he was not following her orders, but was doing so because he wanted to. The jacket was easy to discard. It practically fell off in pieces. It was his stark white shirt that gave her problems. She had to unbutton the cuffs at his wrists before attempting to pull it over his head. Of course, the captain made no move to help her; making her feel like she was helping Mother undress baby Micheal once more.

When she finally threw his shirt on the floor with the remains of his coat, she gasped at the angry blister forming around and under what looked to be new leather strapped tightly across his chest.

"See something you like?" he asked with a smirk.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Owning anything having to do with J.M. Barrie and Disney would mean truckloads of paperwork that I'm just too lazy to do. Oh yeah, and there's that thing with the money, which I don't have.

"See something you like?" he asked with a smirk.

She'd been so occupied with the wound that she hadn't realized she was looking at a man's bare chest. She blushed as she found that she did indeed see something she liked. He was lean, a little too lean though, with muscle one would associate with running a pirate ship. Scars crisscrossed over his chest, stomach, and arms. "You haven't been eating," she stated, hoping to cover the fact that she'd been staring.

"It's no concern of yours."

He was silent on the matter, however Wendy promised herself that she'd get him to eat something later. "How do you undo this thing?" she asked as she examined the jumble of leather and metal. She decided that this 'contraption', as Hook called it, was new. The leather was stiff and the metal showed no wear. No wonder it was so uncomfortable; there was no room to move around it in.

He reached over and with a few quick movements of his wrist and deft fingers it fell away into his lap. He didn't remove the hook from his arm, however.

"Thank you. That looks like it hurts quite a bit. Let me wash it before I bandage it and you'll be good as new. Where do you keep your brandy?" Hook pointed and she fetched a random bottle. She knew next to nothing of alcohol besides its aftereffects and proprieties as an antiseptic. Having no other cloths, she opted for the next best thing. Reaching for the shirt on the floor, she ripped it into strips using the tears in it.

"I rather liked that shirt," he protested.

"You've got enough to replace it, you know."

Brandy was poured onto one of the largest strips and hesitantly applied to his skin. Wendy dabbed it over the wound until she was sure she'd gone over it completely. "That will keep it clean until you can bathe," she told him as she wrapped the clean white strips around his chest. Then she got him a clean shirt.

"Do you need help getting that on?"

A frown appeared on his face. "Just turn around."

She did so, wondering if she'd somehow insulted him.

"I'm decent," he spoke, sarcastically, after a moment.

"So you are," she replied as she turned around once more. The hook and the contraption were on the bed next to him. He seemed comfortable enough to have his missing hand covered by the sleeve of the shirt. Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a soft knock on the cabin door. A bearded head hesitantly came into view.

"Ah, Smee, come in. Miss Darling tells me you've got my crew in order."

"Hm, aye Cap'n. Glad ye be feelin' better. I wanted to know if ye an' Miss Darlin' wanted anythin' to eat before I have some o' the men bring in a bath."

"Nothing for-"

"Yes, please, Mr. Smee. For the Captain and I."

Attempting to hide a grin behind a violent fit of coughing, the first mate ducked out of the room.

"What-?" Hook was interrupted once more.

"Why haven't you been eating?"

"I don't appreciate being interrupted," he growled.

"Why haven't you-?"

"We've gone over this, Miss Darling."

She wasn't giving up. "Why-?"

"It's none of your damned business!" he shouted, eyes flashing red.

They glared at one another for a long moment before his still recovering body's tense muscles relaxed and he lent back against his pillows in exhaustion. His eyes closed and his breathing gradually returned to normal after his outburst. If he didn't eat something soon, he'd have no energy to fight off his sickness.

Smee came and went, leaving the two to sit in silence, staring at the tray that sat on the edge of the bed as if it were the most remarkable thing they'd ever seen. "Please, just eat. It's not healthy for you to starve yourself."

"I'm not starving myself."

"The what is it exactly you are doing?"

"I..."

When he didn't continue, she pressed the issue. "You..?"

He glared. "Just hand me the damned fork!"

Wendy smiled as she served herself and the captain. They ate in silence, with nothing to listen to beside their cutlery and the rocking of the ship. She kept an eye on him as they ate. He was very neat even with only one hand to eat with. Instead of the shoveling motion she expected from a pirate, he ate with grace. _He eats like a gentleman_, she realized.

"What were you before you took to piracy?"

He glance up at her, but continued to eat. "I don't remember," he said before putting a bit of bread into his mouth.

"Do you remember anything of your life before Neverland?"

He considered, "Nothing." The way he kept his eyes averted as he said it led her to believe that he wasn't telling the whole truth. Wendy let it go, however. _Let him keep his secrets._

Smee soon came in and though the captain insisted she go before him, she somehow managed to convince him that it was better for his wounds to be cleaned as soon as possible. So Wendy Darling came to be on deck of the Jolly Roger. There was a lovely breeze that played with the hem of her nightdress and whipped her hair about her face. The sun kissed her pale London skin.

A few of the crew whispered and pointed to her, but she paid them no mind. As much as Hook disliked her, he still wouldn't let her be harmed. Least of all by his own crew. As she looked out over the island, she thought she might have spotted something considerably larger than a bird fly out and over the trees. Now that Hook wasn't in immediate danger, she felt that she could now spare Peter a few thoughts.

She wondered if he'd acquired any new Lost Boys since she'd been away. The Boys at home were all attending school with John and Micheal. They would be coming home soon for summer vacation. Even if Peter had no Lost Boys to date, she knew he could keep himself busy. There were always the mermaids, Natives, and the faeries for him to play with.

There was a tapping on her shoulder and she turned around to see Mr. Smee. Captain Hook was dressed in a pair of tan breeches and an open shirt, leaning against the mizzenmast. His hair was damp and by the way he kept his arms folded loosely over his chest, Wendy couldn't tell if he wore his hook.

She returned her attention to the older man in front of her. "Yes, Mr. Smee?"

"The cap'n's finished, miss. Yer ta use his quarters ta bathe an' change."

"Thank you, Mr. Smee. I'll do just that."

She glanced at the captain before she went to his quarters, hoping to catch his attention to thank him for the use of his rooms, but he'd moved to observe a young pirate as he worked. Curiously, he looked to be giving advice on the young man's work rather than gutting him_. But that would be silly_, she thought, if he killed all of his crew over little things, he'd have none left over. Shaking her head in wonder, she left to clean herself.

It seemed they had managed to find a mismatched skirt and a soft blue blouse for her to wear instead of her nightdress. There was also a corset, which she struggled to fasten herself. In the end, she pulled the blouse over her head and peeked out the door.

She caught the eye of a passing pirate, whom she waved over to her.

"Wot ye want?" Wendy couldn't help but notice that a few of his teeth were black from rot.

"Can you tell Captain Hook that I need him?"

"An' who might ye be?" He pronounced the last word "beh".

"Miss Darling."

He scuttled off and she shut the door. It was reopened once more a moment later. "Yes?" he asked, giving her a curious look.

"There's not another woman on board, is there?" She didn't dare get her hopes up.

His brows furrowed, "Unfortunately, no."

"I..."

"You..?"

It didn't escape Wendy that they'd gone through something similar to this before, only now it was reversed. "I need help fastening my corset."

"And?" he asked, amused.

She breathed deep, in and out, a few times before answering. "Could you please help me?"

Wendy wondered whether it was her imagination that he looked slightly uncomfortable. "You could always just go without it," was his suggestion.

"I think not. Are you going to assist me or do I need to ask Mr. Smee?" Why hadn't she asked the kind Irishman in the first place?

"What must I do?"

She sighed in relief. "Thank you. Please turn around for a moment."

He did so and she removed her blouse and fixed the corset into place. "It's all right now. If you could fasten it—tightly, remember."

She heard his boots cross the floor to her. It was an effort not to shudder at his warm hand so close to her bare skin. What would her dear aunt have to say about this, she wondered. Such scandal! She gasped as he pulled the garment tightly.

"Did I hurt you?" his voice was deep in her ear.

"No, you're only crushing my ribs into my lungs," she answered, voice laced with sarcasm.

He grumbled something about women torturing themselves and continued with her corset.

"How are you doing that with only one hand?" she asked suddenly.

She felt his body stiffen behind her. "I'm not completely incapable," he growled as he pulled the corset tighter. She gasped in surprise and pain. She could barely breath as it was!

"I'm sorry," she amended, "I was only curious."

Would she ever stop insulting him unintentionally? He seemed to forgive her as he became infinitely more gentle at her words. A moment later and he was done. She felt his arms fall away from her and his presence retreated a few feet.

"I'm turned around. You may safely continue dressing now."

She wasn't going to readily trust the words of a pirate, so she glanced over her shoulders. He spoke the truth. Her blouse was retrieved from the floor and pulled on once more. "Thank you very much, Captain."

He turned to acknowledge her with a nod before leaving to return to the deck.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Peter Pan and Company don't belong to me... Unfortunately.

He turned to acknowledge her with a nod before leaving to return to the deck.

Wendy amused herself for an hour or so by what she could only call snooping. There wasn't anything that she hadn't expected to find in a pirate captain's cabin. Paperwork from supplies they'd commandeered, rum, weapons, and what looked to be a journal. Hook also had a large library consisting of ship working and more surprisingly; classic literature. Prose and fiction consorted together upon the bookshelves. _He must have gone to school when he was a boy._

As a storyteller, she'd always liked to know everything about her subjects. When she was younger she would speak to everyone around her, constantly asking questions. Her father had a friend in shipbuilding who found her persistent curiosity quite entertaining. Samuel Higgins was his name and he' taught her everything he knew about ships and the sea--including pirates.

Now Wendy had her favorite antagonist at her disposal. She wanted-- no-- needed to know what made him Captain Hook; his life; his story. Even as she told stories about him, she still knew so little. He was a ruthless, clever pirate with a quicker-than-lightning temper. He dined like a gentleman and obviously had an education. That meant he must have been middle class or higher. She didn't think he was from the upper class, however. What could possibly bring someone with wealth to turn to piracy?

All of the knowledge she was gaining brought only more questions. Too many questions for her liking. What was he before Neverland? When had he turned pirate? How did he come to Neverland? What had happened between him and Peter for the boy to cut off the man's hand?

The door opened and Wendy knew it must be Hook. Who else would enter without knocking? She looked up from where she was sitting at his desk, glad she'd only been studying the map of Neverland laid out there. He paid her no mind, only going to the shelf and pulling out a book.

"Are you finished for today?" she asked as he settled himself down in an armchair.

"For now," he replied, propping his feet on the footrest.

Wendy could tell he was still weak by the exhaustion on his face and in the way his body relaxed completely the moment he sat down. She was glad that he hadn't pushed himself any further. "I don't think you should do anymore. At least for today."

He looked at her over the top of his book, but said nothing.

She explained further, "You just broke out of your fever and I don't want you to relapse back into it. I've heard of that happening when someone doesn't get enough rest afterward."

"Your concern is inspiring, my beauty." He turned the page of his book with his hook. _So he is wearing it_, she observed.

"Why do you insist upon wearing that when you know it causes you harm?"

Knowing that he would be getting any reading done until he satisfied her curiosity, he put his book down with a sigh.

"It is new leather. It must be softened up and the only way to do that is to wear it. Wound or no wound."

"Why did you need a new one?" Wendy asked, gesturing toward his chest in general. "Did it break?"

He looked at her for a long moment. The expression on his face made her feel stupid for asking. "I'm sorr-" she began.

"It was a disagreement with one of the Natives."

"Oh."

There were so many questions, but she dared not let any loose. "You never answered _my _question, Miss Darling."

Wendy stared at him, wondering if he'd hit his head while he was out that day. "Why are you here?" he clarified.

"Oh. Well, I don't know. I just... woke up here." Even to Wendy's ears it sounded like a lie.

Hook 'hm'ed and went back to his book.

"When are you leaving?" he asked without looking up.

Wendy didn't readily know the answer to that one. She'd helped the Captain out of his fever. What more was needed of her in Neverland? There wasn't anything she could think of. "Can I leave?"

He put the book down again. "What do you mean?"

"I... well, it just occurred to me. Is it possible for me to leave? I mean, you cannot, or I'm sure you'd have done so long before now."

He thought for a moment. "You should still be young enough-"

How would he possibly know? "Do you even know what my age is, Captain?"

A pause. "No."

"I'm eighteen years of age. Quite the adult back in London."

"...Yes, quite. Then I'm afraid you'll have no choice but to attempt leaving. If it fails... well, I'm sure your precious Peter would love to see you again."

"You really do not want me here." Somehow that realization hurt. Wendy pushed the irrational feeling away. She should want to leave!

"Your very presence annoys me, my beauty," Hook said as he began reading again.

Wendy was stunned into silence. Her mere presence couldn't aggravate someone that completely... Could it? Could she be that horrid? She had attempted to kill him, but she'd been only a girl then. She had grown up since then. "I'm sorry..." Dark hair hung in her face as she fled the cabin, not turning back to see forget-me-not eyes follow her every step.

On deck Wendy let the breeze sooth her. It flung her hair from her face to whip out behind her; playing with her skirt and making it cling to her legs in front and fly out, like a sail, in the back.

"Are ye all right, Miss Wendy?" Mr. Smee came to stand next to her; leaning against the wooden rails and looking out to sea.

"Y-yes, I'm fine, Mr. Smee."

"The Cap'n's said some harsh words, I imagine."

She took a step back, amazed. The old man grinned. Turning to look at her now, he said, "Don' mind what the cap'n says. Mos' times he don' really mean it. He's lonesome, missy. He wants comp'ny, but he's so un-used to it that he ended up pushin' people away, 'stead of keepin' 'em close."

"You must have been with him for a very long tie to know him so well," she ventured.

"Oh, since afore he could shave. He was such a curious lad. Always wantin' ta know somethin' 'bout everythin'. Still the same if ye asks me. Just doesn't ask so many questions. Reads a lot, though."

Wendy knew an opportunity for information when she saw it Finally! Some answers! "Did he always have such a horrible temper?"

"Aye, missy. Eyes didn' turn red so much when he was a lad, though. Strange things, his eyes. S'why some o' the men fear him. Say he's a witch's son."

"Why do you think they do that? I've never seen-or heard, for that matter, of anything like it."

"Me? I thinks it's anger. Bottled up inside, with no-wheres else ta go. I thinks it gets harder an' harder ta keep inside an' it won't belong afore someone gets hurt." Wendy didn't think it would be wise to mention all the pirates who had died simply because they had said something that annoyed him.

What Mr. Smee said made sense to Wendy, though. It was getting so hard for Captain Hook to keep his negative emotions--anger, hatred, jealousy--in check that it had already made him ill. If it continued, Hook might give in to his anger completely or become sick again. If he did become ill, Wendy wasn't s sure she'd be able to help him as she had before.

"Thank you, Mr. Smee. You've given me a lot to think about."

"Yer welcome, missy. I've got ta be getting back ta the galley, now. Come down, if ye be needin' me."

They each went separate ways. Wendy didn't even bother knocking on the Captain's door. She entered with every intention of putting on a show of nothing having happened, but stopped in her tracks when she saw him curled up in his armchair, the book on the floor and a peaceful expression on his sleeping face. Had it been John or Micheal, Wendy wouldn't have hesitated in covering them with a blanket. With Hook, however, she didn't want to wake him and she was still sore about his earlier comments.

Instead, she pulled out a red leather book with gilded pages from the shelf and made herself comfortable at the desk to read. She was a quarter of the way through the book when the ship violently lurched to the side and sent Wendy toppling backwards, taking the chair with her. Her head hit the hard wooden floorboards, but only enough to stun her and leave a pounding headache in its wake.

A groan from the other side of the desk told her that Hook had also been thrown to the floor as well. "Are you okay?" she called, sitting up.

"Are you still here?" he sounded annoyed, but Wendy decided that she wouldn't be delightful either had she been woken so rudely. She pushed herself up and righted the chair. Thankfully, not much else had topped over as she and Hook had and disturbed her handiwork. One major cleaning was enough for her. Hook was up and looking through one of the port holes.

"Pan's left..."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Neverland or anyone in it. Darn.

Captain James Hook loved the sea. There was nothing more pleasant than watching the calm water as he felt it beneath him, rocking his ship gently as a mother would her child. The ocean breeze would slide over him and sooth skin burned by the malicious glare of the sun. The sea was his haven.

_But_, he thought darkly as he stared out through the port hole in his quarters, _it's yet another thing Pan can steal from me whenever he likes._

The familiar darkness crept in, but Hook chased it away. He refused to lose control again. He turned away from the sight of endless crystalline white, more for himself than to let the girl see. He tossed one of his coats at her, not caring where it landed and slipped into one of his own. He felt like slipping underneath his warm sheets and sleeping, like a bear would, until spring returned. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't. Ice that would creep up like vines until it covered everything and he had to make sure his ship was safe when it did.

"Stay here," he growled, making his way towards the door.

"But-"

The expression on his face was enough to deal with her persistent questions. "Stay here," he repeated.

The ice made everything dangerous enough without her beneath everyone's boots. It was warmer in his cabin anyhow. "Cap'n!" he was almost trampled by Smee as he closed his door, "There's been a bit o' trouble!"

Inwardly, Hook sighed. There was always trouble. No matter how many times they'd gone through this, his men still could not do anything without him to oversee. _It's a good thing I left my pistol behind,_ he thought, _or I'd have a few less members on my crew._

Hook himself felt like he was encased in ice as he let himself into his cabin a few hours later. The sun had gone down a while ago, making the air even frostier as they worked. Everyone on board missed supper and while he wasn't hungry, he held a tray for the storyteller. She was watching him as he set it down in front of her on the desk and went for some rum to warm his insides. On a second thought, he poured another glass and handed it to her.

She put her book down after marking the page. "Does it always freeze when Peter leaves?"

Hook felt himself stiffen at the hated boy's name, but forced himself to take a breath and relax. He took a sip of the alcohol, relishing the fire which spread through his veins. He nodded. When he felt conciderably warmer, he said, "You won't be able to leave until Neverland thaws out."

She nodded, but said nothing more. Curious.

For once, he was partially grateful for Pan's absence. Although Wendy Darling would never have been his first choice for company, she was someone not of Neverland. Not a child, not a pirate, or a creature of magic. She was someone who wasn't in his presence because she'd been particularly forced to (Not by himself, anyhow.). More curiouser, she didn't fear him. Hook laid his head back in his armchair and closed his eyes. "Tell me a story."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Anything." _I just want to hear your voice. Anyone's but my own. _Her voice flowed over him like a gently stream, starting slowly but gradually rising in passion until he was floating along with nothing existing but himself and the story. A man taken to prison, charged with armed robbery. No alibi and his pistol found amid the scene of crime. He keeps his secrets, even from his lover, who writes letter after letter. She prays each night for his safe return. The man, vowing to have her in his arms once more. His escape attempt...

"...there was only a few feet more for Cassius to climb. He heard the dogs, baying wildly; growing ever closer. Guards shouted, but he couldn't hear them. He had to reach Elizabeth! A whoosh and a thunk, followed by several more. Cassius's fingers lost their grip as his eyes grew dark. He fell to the ground, arrows protruding from his back like a sick pincushion. Over the hills and far away, Elizabeth felt a part of her wither like a dying rose and knew her love was dead."

There was a silence that lasted a long while. "No happy endings, my beauty?"

"It's something I have been working on recently."

"I suggest some revision."

The storyteller laughed. It was a sweet sound, like the bells of a fairy, and Hook found himself wanting to hear it again. What was wrong with him? It had to be because he hadn't been in the company of a woman for so long. He couldn't possibly find her appealing. Hook moved to his desk and pulled out his journal as if to write. It was a clever ploy to watch her without her noticing.

She had grown much since last in Neverland. Taller certainly, but now she was a woman of sorts. Her hair, glossy and dark, hung to just below her shoulder blades. She had unmistakable, delicious, curves even under the nightgown she must have changed into while he was out. He swallowed hard. How could he find little Wendy Darling so damnably attractive? She had killed him, once.

The Captain growled and slammed the journal closed, startling the storyteller. She stared at him with curious, innocent eyes. Pushing himself away from the desk, he cursed himself repeatedly. She was only a girl! "What's wrong?"

_I'm a fool! A thrice damned fool!_

His vision flashed red and fear joined the anger and self-hatred coursing through him.

_No!_

Hook ignored the girl and her concerned expression. He nearly ran for the door. The frigid night air hit his system like a cannonball. The darkness within him attempted to take advantage of the sudden shock and his vision was momentarily bathed in crimson. He stumbled a little in his attempts to escape and keep the girl safe. He wasn't paying attention to where his legs took him.

There was suddenly a wall before him. No, not a wall. A mast. He leaned himself against it, hands gripping his scull and pulling at his hair in a fight for control. _No! I won't give in!_

"Kill her..." the darkness seduced him, whispering like the wind in his ears.

_No!_

"Kill her, and the problem will vanish."

_Silence!_

"...her beautiful, lifeless body-"

_Stop! _He tugged at his hair, hoping to distract the darkness, the rage.

"...sweet blood flowing over my hands-"

_I won't. I won't!_

There was sudden silence and a painful throb in his head. Hook's eyes closed as he let himself slide into a sitting position. It aggravated the wound on his chest, but he ignored it and pulled his legs up towards him. He placed his forehead on his knees. His breathing was ragged and his body ached down to his very bones.

He'd almost lost control. It, whatever it was, was getting worse. It triggered whenever he got angry, the darkness would rise up and suddenly all his thoughts were overtaken by the darkness, pulling at him to kill. Usually, it was as a flash of lighting and he would satisfy the urge or not. Now, it was persistent--lasting for longer and longer periods of time. Controlling him, compelling him to kill.

It had begun to strengthen, he realized, after he was swallowed whole by the bloody crocodile. He had shut himself away from Neverland, hiding away from everyone in hopes that he could keep the darkness from affection anyone else. He'd only make an appearance to keep the crew in line and give orders or head important trips to the island.

A hand on his should caused him to move so fast he swore it was fortunate that he didn't have his pistol with him. It was only Smee. "Yer gonna get sick again, Cap'n."

"I'm fine," he answered in a tone that would have no argument.

The old man smiled gently, "All right, Cap'n. Are ye needin' anythin'?"

He shook his head. Smee pat his shoulder affectionately. "Don' stay out too long. Don' wan' Miss Darling ta get worried."

_You have no idea._

"Goodnight, Smee."

"G'night, Cap'n."

Hook was left alone. The cold night had taken the moisture in the air and created crystal ice that floated along like the diamond dust. It glistened in the light of the moon. He looked up to the stars, naming the constellations and recalling their stories. It was odd that this world and the other shared the same sky when they were so different...

Hours later, nearly frozen solid, Hook made his way to his cabin. The girl, in the armchair, quickly looked up. He could tell she'd nearly fallen asleep waiting for him."You're back!"

He nodded and went over to her. Without a word, he picked her up, careful not to hurt her with his claw. She protested weakly, nearly asleep already. He carried her to his bed, not having any other place for her. The storyteller was fast asleep just after her head hit the pillow.

Hook removed everything but his breeches and threw on a loose shirt. He grabbed an extra blanket and settled himself on his bed beside the storyteller, over the quilts. He turned his back to her and after a while went to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: All these chapters and I still don't own anything from Peter Pan. Shucks.

A meadow green with splashes of soft yellows and pinks. The sun radiating a comforting warmth which warred with the persistent wind that preceded the looming storm clouds. The rain was a ways off, nothing to concern the young men watching their horses rest and talking quietly.

"I do think it's about time we returned, Young Master," suggested a young man not much older than his companion. He had fair hair tied with a red ribbon and wide eyes dancing with worry.

The other young man, with long dark curls, looked off into the distance with forget-me-not eyes. "Not quite yet, Andrew. There's still much time before Father comes home."

"Your mother wanted you home-"

"That woman is _not_ my mother."

"It's getting late. Your _step-mother_ will be angry!" The Young Master was silent; running his fingers through the soft mane of his bay mare.

"Please! I am asking as...," he paused awkwardly; wondering if he was being too forward, "as your friend!"

The young man didn't turn to acknowledge his companion's pleas, but his hand stilled on the horse. "All right, Andrew," he muttered.

Andrew breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank you, Young Master!"

"How many times must I ask you to call me James?"

"As many times as you want, but it's likely I shan't call you anything but Young Master. At least until you become the true master of the house."

A frown appeared upon James' face for a fleeting moment, before turning impassive. "The true master? Not with that _woman _married to my father's purse."

"Young Master!"

James sneered, the expression marring his handsome features. "She's a daemon."

The fair haired man laughed nervously, "More like a faerie, I'd say."

Andrew's attempt at humor made the corners of his lips tug upward. "You do know that there's no such thing as-"

"Don't! You know what happens when someone says that!" The anxious man worried the edge of his cloak with equally nervous fingers. Andrew worried about everything. The fact that he was as superstitious as a sailor never helped.

James smirked and brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes. Defiantly, he shouted, "There is no such thing as faeries!" The look on Andrew's face made him laugh outright. "You see? The sky did not come crashing down upon me!" To prove his point, he raised his arms to the heavens as if daring them to pierce his body with lightning.

"'Tis terrible bad luck to go challenging the skies, Young Master."

Shaking his head, James pulled himself onto his horse. "Come Andrew. We don't want to keep _Mother_ waiting."

They gathered as the young men departed, gliding silently on the winds from all corners of the meadow. There was something amiss. There was no cheerful bell laughter and chuckles of the winds. Instead the wind howled, shrieking in fear and sorrow. They watched, but the light had already gone out. There was no saving her. Their hearts bled.

They carried the lifeless form of the girl, their Princess. She'd been so young, not even reaching the age to take a husband. Her beautiful violet eyes, closed forever in a mockery of sleep. Her long silver hair trailing behind, whipping in the wind that implored her to wake and play with it, for it was getting lonely.

They brought her home. Her parents, deny it at first, but then tears flood their eyes and pour into a waterfall of sorrow and despair. There was only one thing to ease their grief. _Revenge_. Their sorrow must be matched! The boy, shouting to the universe, "There is no such thing as faeries!"

He _must_ be punished. He _will_ be punished. Eternally.

The wind was harsh now, ripping at clothes and hair of the young men upon the horses. It wouldn't be long before the storm began. The horses tossed their heads and whined in fright. "Hurry Young Master!" Andrew shouted over the roar. "We're almost there!"

James urged his mare forward, but she would not cooperate. "Damnation!" He jumped down from the horse and grabbed her reins. He ran his hands over her head, murmuring soothing words into her large ears. She calmed and James hauled himself into place on her back once more. "Come!"

They were racing the storm now. The horses galloped as fast as their legs could carry them and their riders. Sweat drenched their bodies and spittle flew from their mouths, but their riders could only focus on their destination and the danger behind them. James and Andrew charged through the gates and didn't stop until they were inside the stable. They each slid off their horses, gasping harshly for breath. Stable boys rushed from their game of cards to see to the frightened horses. They had to calm the beasts before they could water and feed them.

"This is strange weather, Young Master. I told you it was terrible bad luck to challenge the skies."

James was unconvinced. "This has nothing to do with what I said or did. The storm was already brewing when we left. I couldn't have possibly conjured it with my actions!"

Andrews already wide eyes grew in what looked to be fear. James wondered if his companion was quite all right. Perhaps he'd worn down his nerves just a little more than he should have. "J-James!"

The use of his given name caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What is wrong with you?"

"You- You're bleeding!"

"What are you talking about?" He looked down at himself, but didn't see or feel any wounds. He hadn't gotten wounded at all...

"You're crying! Crying... blood!" Andrew's eyes rolled upward into his head and he crumpled to the floor.

James raised a hand to his face; touching the corner of his eye. His fingers were stained with crimson. "What the deuce?"

Beyond the walls of the stable, the sky wept. His heart was so full of anger, jealousy, and disappointment. They took advantage of it. They made sure it would never lessen--only grow. Grow until it took over him and kept him firmly captive until he would finally, in the end, go mad. There was one way to undo the curse. They did not worry. True love could never touch a heart as raging and frozen as his.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Do I own Peter Pan and Co. yet? ....No? Okay, sources tell me I don't.

It was already late morning when Wendy woke. She lazily rolled over to escape the glare of the sunshine and buried her face in the goose down pillows. It brought the scent of cigars and that pleasant smell she could only associate with Hook to her nose. She inhaled deeply, before rolling over once more.

He'd frightened her last night when he'd run as if he were being chased by daemons from the very depths of hell. She hadn't gone after him. Something held her back, but she couldn't explain it. She didn't know if he left to keep her safe or if she'd, somehow, caused the fit.

The Captain was all right when he returned, if a little haggard and encrusted with ice on his hair and clothing. She'd been surprised when he picked her up and placed her in his bed. His touch was gentle, if not freezing. She'd fallen asleep soon after.

The door burst open, startling her. A triumphant Captain Hook stood in the doorway. Mr. Smee stood, as ever, behind him, carrying a large crate. "Ah, you are awake then," he said, coming into the room. He wore a midnight blue today, velvet coat and matching hat and breeches. The white shirt was untied at his throat and over it was a black vest. He was fully armed, with pistol in his belt, cutlass at his side, and the gleaming hook.

He gestured for Mr. Smee to set the crate down on the desk. "How many were wounded, Smee?"

"Three, sir. Gibber, Seth, and the French fellow, Savoie."

"Killed?"

"No one."

Hook sat down with a satisfied smirk. Abruptly, he looked over to Wendy. "Well, come over here, girl."

Curious, she did as instructed. "Wounded? Why should anyone be wounded?"

"You've slept through quite a lot, lass." He opened the crate with a loud 'snap' and brought out several splendid dresses. His eyes moved from each dress to her before he held out a soft blue one with long, bell sleeves. "This should fit you."

"Where did you get these?"

"Questions, questions," he mocked, "Come, Smee."

At the door, Hook turned to her with an arrogant smirk. "Knock if you should need me. I'll be waiting outside, my beauty." Wendy heaved an aggravated sigh. Of course she'd need his help and he knew it well. Her fingers ran over the soft fabric before she started to undress. She cleaned herself with the water in the basin before getting into as much of the dress as she could with her corset still undone.

She gave the door an experimental knock. The Captain strode in and motioned for her to turn about.

"What really happened?" she asked to break the awkward silence and distract herself from the warm hand at her back.

"We raided one of the Natives' stores."

"Whatever for?"

"We were short on supplies. Aren't you grateful? You have something besides night gowns and pirate garb."

She thought for a moment and decided on a question. There was so much she wanted to know! "Peter is back, then?"

She felt the brush of his curls on her neck as he shook his head. "No, but the water is more safely frozen. We walked."

As he finished, she had to wonder if she'd imagined that his fingers lingered a moment longer that necessary. He left her to dress.

She was just finishing pulling a brush through her hair when, with a great cracking sound, the _Jolly Rodger_ lurched. Wendy caught herself on the desk and waited for the rocking to subside before rushing to the porthole. It was an awesome sight to see an entire ocean go from unmoving ice to gently lapping water. Beyond the glass, ice melted from the surface of the ship, making it look as if it were raining.

"The crew must be soaking!"

Indeed they were. Captain Hook slammed his way into the cabin, looking as if he'd been caught in his own personal storm cloud. His hair and clothing were sodden and clung to every inch of his body. Even the feather in his hat drooped in a depressed sort of manner.

The thunderous expression on his face would have frighted any boy or pirate, no matter how extraordinary they were. "Pan's returned," he growled by way of explanation.

He threw his hat to the floor and soon to join the miserable pile were his sword belt and frock, which he struggled with.

"Captain!" He couldn't be undressing in front of her!

He looked up from unbuttoning his vest. "Yes?" He irritably shook his head, trying to dislodge a lock of hair that stubbornly clung to his cheek.

"You- you-" She struggled to express just how very inappropriate his actions were.

"Marauding villain? Ne'er do well? Pirate?" he supplied.

"You can't just _undress_ in front of me!"

"This is my cabin," he pointed out and added the vest to the soggy mess.

"Yes, well..."

There were shouts coming from the deck, followed by pistol shots and more shouting. Mr. Smee was soon at the door. "Cap'n! Cap'n! It's Pan!"

No more was needed to be said. Clad in only his shirt and breeches, the pirate captain was already on his way. "Remain here. Stay down and do not move until Smee or I come for you!"

"But-"

"Damn it, no 'buts'! Do as I say, Wendy Darling!" The door slammed shut behind him.

She paced agitatedly for a while. The shouts never stopped. Cannons rang out to deafen them, only for the voices to return in greater and greater volume. At last, Wendy could no longer do as she was told. Peter might be hurt! And as much as she didn't want to admit it, she was worried about Captain Hook as well. She grabbed a sword that she'd set to the side when she put the cabin back to rights her first day in Neverland. She hadn't thought that she'd ever need to wield it.

On deck, there was only what could be described as chaos. A few moaning bodies lay in what seemed like oceans of intermingling blood. Some looked to have been gutted while other bled from wounds no doubt cause by gunshots. Wendy closed her eyes against the carnage and fought off the urge to vomit. How could she ever have wanted to be a part of any sort of violence when she was younger? Mother and Father certainly left _this _out their faerie tales!

She forced her eyes to open and move on. Men ran across the deck, weapons in hand, each trying to follow orders as hastily as possible, lest they be punished. The cannon fire continued to rock the ship, but Wendy could not see what, or who, they aimed for. She couldn't hear her own calls for Peter or Hook, even Mr. Smee, over the cannon's rage and the perpetual yelling of the crew.

She found Peter and Captain Hook and dropped her cutlass in horror. The Captain held Peter by his throat a foot or so off of the deck. The boy kicked feebly in attempt to break free, but couldn't take his eyes from the bloody hook inches from taking out his insides and spilling them out onto the deck. It seemed like nothing else existed by for herself, the murderous Captain, and the frightened boy. All sound was drowned out until all she could hear was a roaring in her ears, as if she stood by a furious waterfall, and the pounding tribal drumbeat of her heart.

Wendy couldn't even think, she only acted. She sprinted over and attempted to bodily remove the pirate from the Peter. Suddenly it was she who was caught in his vice-like grip and Peter lay coughing and gasping for air at their feet. "Peter! Leave! Now!" she cried out before looking into the murderous blood red eyes of Captain James Hook.

The man's fingers bit into her arm just below her shoulder and the hook pierced the skin of her other arm through the fabric of the dress. She cried out in surprise more than pain. "Captain! Captain! Hook! Please, James!" she tried to reach him through the rage and not panic in the same moment. The only response she got was a low, deep growl. Wendy attempted to pull away; to flee to safety, but his grip on her only tightened.

There was nothing she could do. She was completely at his mad mercy. Unless...

Wendy took a deep breath and let it out for courage. Before she could have a second thought, she leaned in and pressed her soft lips against his snarling ones. Her Kiss! Mother and Aunt Millicent told her it was special and it had saved Peter's life years before. It was the only thing she could think of. His grip relaxed in shock before his fingers dug into her skin again, flexing ever other second in confused spasms.

Wendy leaned in closer, pressing herself against him and increasing pressure on his mouth. For a long moment, she feared that her Kiss wasn't enough, but she felt his stone muscles slowly unwind. He was suddenly returning the kiss, tentatively at first, but then with more passion. He broke away to lay his head on her shoulder, his face in the crook of her neck and his arms around her waist. She ran her fingers though his still damp mane and held him to her.

She wasn't quite certain how long they stood there, but it seemed like an eternity. "Wendy..." she heard him murmured. Then his body went limp against hers. She struggled to keep them both upright, but somehow she managed to slowly get herself into a sitting position with his head in her lap. She stroked his cheek gently.

Looking up, she met the cautious eyes of Peter Pan. He looked at her quizzically."Wendy?"

She was unable to answer because her eyes rolled upward and the world went black.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: There were no Captain Hooks, Wendy Darlings or Peter Pans hurt in the writing of this chapter. Oh, and they aren't mine either.

It was raining in Neverland. Not the usual, cheerful sun-shower. Instead, it was a mournful sort of rain as if the sky were in despair. It seemed that shadows haunted the magical island. Not a creature stirred from its warm, comfortable home. Most were content to sleep the day away. Two such sleepers lay in a darkened cabin in the foreboding ship anchored not far from land. They lay side by side, resting after a long, horrible ordeal. Neither noticed the twinkling of bells and the sparkling trail of magical light as it made its way through the cabin.

It examined each figure searching for any signs of waking. Both had been out for hours and looked liked they wouldn't be returning to consciousness for hours yet. Just as well, as it couldn't risk being spotted. The plan was going along smoothly, as it should. There was no one to get in the way and the girl on the bed was strong. Everything would go smoothly.

After one last look, the light sped out of the cabin and into the rain, dodging raindrops as it went. Soon, it disappeared into the foliage of the island.

Wendy Darling sat at the large desk in the Captain's cabin on the _Jolly Roger_, glaring daggers into the wood of the door. There was nothing the poor door could have done to the storyteller. It was not locked. In fact, it opened quite easily, without even a squeal of the brass hinges. It was not the door that Wendy's anger was directed. Instead, it was for the man with a hook for a right hand, who was undoubtedly avoiding her.

It was a few days after the incident, three in fact. Enough time for Wendy to just about drive herself mad with frustration. She could not figure out why Captain Hook kept himself as far from her as he could. She had kissed him, yes, but only to save herself and return him to normal. Was he ashamed of his daemon rage? Or embarrassed that she'd kissed him?

Wendy woke up early every morning and Mr. Smee would bring her breakfast and tell her a lie to keep her from seeking out Hook herself. He was always "dealin' wi' the men" or "whippen' the crew into shape" and "shouldna be bothered". She'd keep herself busy, usually with the books that lined the shelves. She nearly always retired late after staying up to wait for him, but he didn't return.

The day before, Wendy had woken in the middle of the night after a particularly haunting dream. When she calmed herself, she noticed that beside her lay the infamous pirate captain, sleeping soundly. So he did return, but not until he was sure she was deeply asleep. Wendy was getting fed up with it. She longed for someone to speak with and books could only keep her occupied for so long. She was filled near to burst with questions and worry.

The storyteller moved from the armchair and hesitantly stepped out on deck. No one had told her to stay in Captain Hook's quarters, but she shouldn't help but feel she was breaking some sort of rule. There were the usual bored looking pirates, each with a bottle of rum by their side, resting and chatting casually with each other. A few glanced toward her, but they left her to herself.

It had been a marvelous day in Neverland, though Wendy had missed it. There was a delightful sunset now, however, and she was determined to enjoy it. In London, she never witnessed anything like it. It was like the climax of a wonderful story--passionate, fiery, and with the sad aura of finality.

"Pretty, isn' it?"

She's been so lost in her thoughts that she started. It was only Mr. Smee. He seemed to enjoy coming up behind her unannounced. He was very good at it. "Yes, it's extraordinary."

"The Cap'n enjoys it, as well."

There was silence for a time.

Wendy said, "I have a need to go ashore."

The older man gave her what could almost be a horrified look. His mouth dropped open and his bushy white eyebrows disappeared into his shaggy white mane. "W- Why?"

"I need to speak with Peter. It won't take me long. I've only a few questions for him. I should be back before you know it."

If possible, his eyebrows seemed to rise even higher. "Ye wan' ta leave now!"

"If it's alright."

He scratched the back of his head; thinking. "Well, I suppose. 'S 'long as the Cap'n doesn' see. Ye promise not ta be too long?"

"I promise."

It ended up taking far longer than she originally planned. She swatted a night insect away from her face and wiped the sweat from her brow. There was no doubt about it, she was lost. Surrounded by endless forest, it was no wonder. Every tree and bush looked identical. The sun had gone down fully a few hours before, making it more difficult to navigate. Wendy was no longer trying to find Peter. Since Captain Hook found his lair years before, thanks to Wendy's naivety, the boy must have found another home. It would be nearly impossible to find without the boy's guidance.

Finding the shore was much more difficult than finding Peter's home. The crickets and other night creeps and crawlies were making such a cacophony of sound that she couldn't hear the dull roar of the waves breaking against the sand. She could hardly see what lay before her, even with the light of the moon and stars. She was becoming more and more weary. Sighing heavily, she sat down hard on the forest floor. Mr. Smee must be worrying himself frantic. There was nothing she could do, however, as lost as she was. There was no other option, but to break her promise and find her way back in the morning when she could see. If she was fortunate, there would be a longboat waiting for her.

As tired as she was, it wasn't easy to sleep. Wendy had never had to sleep entirely unsheltered before. Even on her last visit, the Lost Boys had built her a cozy little house. There were strange sounds that made her jump, roaming shadows that contributed entirely too much to her active imagination, and as the sun went down the island had cooled until she sported goosebumps on her arms and legs. To add to her miserable state, her stomach growled in protest from not having eaten supper before she left.

Eventually, she did manage to fall into a light doze. It was the brightness of the sun that woke her up. It was early morning and nearly dead silent in the forest. Wendy stood up and brushed off the dirt and stray leaves from her dress and stretched her sore limbs. She never imagined how lucky she was to have a bed until now. Standing still and listening hard, Wendy could only just hear the ocean. She headed toward it, feeling untold relief. She just hoped she was on the right side of the island. She'd have to walk the perimeter of the it if she couldn't see the _Jolly Roger_.

She nearly yelped in joy when the beach lay before her. Just beyond it loomed the infamous pirate ship. An even more pleasing sight was Mr. Smee and two other pirates playing cards over the overturned longboat. One of the pirates, an incredibly lanky man, spotted her and nudged his friend. Mr. Smee looked up and upset the cards and the boat in his haste to stand and meet her. "Where 'ave ye been?"

"I got lost," she explained.

He looked her over for signs of injury. "Ye're not hurt, are ye?"

She shook her head no. "I'm in need of a good bath, though."

He nodded and muttered something darkly under his breath. When she asked him to speak it again so she could hear, he turned away and gave orders to the other pirates to ready the boat. He was keeping something from her. She knew from earlier conversations with him that it was nearly impossible to get information he wasn't willing to part with from him so she gave up and stared out towards the ship. It didn't look like anyone was up and about except for a handful of men who stood watch.

Soon, Wendy was helped out of the long boat and onto the deck of the ship. It was lovely to be back to the strange, but familiar surroundings. She even managed to ignore the stares and mutters she attracted from the crew. They were acting strangely, though. She thought their expressions were decidedly more than annoyed as they scowled at her. As she entered the Captain's cabin, she understood why the crew was so upset. The hooked pirate was sprawled in the armchair, chest bare and a bottle of rum threatening to fall from the limp hand that hung over the arm of the chair. His long, dark hair was wild and unruly, hanging into his face as he looked up at her through half-lidded, bloodshot eyes. As he recognized her, he sat up and his eyes narrowed at her as he sneered, "I thought you'd left."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: It depresses me to inform you that I do not in any shape or form own anything that lives in or visits Neverland.

"I thought you left."

He was out of his chair before Wendy could reply. He moved like a predator; aggressive and graceful. His eyes flashed red. Before she could move he had her pinned to the wall. Wendy swallowed hard, trying to ignore the hook at her throat.

"I- I went to see Peter-" she tried to explain, but he shook her once, hard. Her head hit the wood and left her momentarily stunned and seeing double.

He glared down at her, snarling, "Did I tell you that you could leave?"

"N-no." _Since when am I a prisoner here? _Angry now, Wendy glared back in defiance, her chin raised so she could look him in the eyes. "I would have told you had I thought I'd be gone as long as I was!"

The hold he had on her tightened. "What do you mean?"

Wendy could tell he thought she wasn't being truthful. "I only wanted to ask him a few questions! What did you expect me to do while you were avoiding me?"

The sneer melted into a frown of distaste. "I never avoided you."

Wendy gave him a droll stare. Briefly, he looked away. When his eyes met hers again his face was carefully arranged into a mask of indifference. "Why didn't you stay with the boy?"

Wendy looked down, sheepishly. She mumbled, "I couldn't find him."

"So you did intend to leave." It was a blunt statement and not a question.

"No!" _Why was he being so difficult?_ "Why are you so angry? I thought my very presence annoyed you? You should have been celebrating my absence!"

He gave her a wicked smirk. "Who says I wasn't?"

She glared angrily at him, pushing the hook away from her throat. Captain Hook arched a brow and placed the blunt edge against her hip, as if daring her to move it from where it rested. "I am not an expert, but lying half dressed and half drunk hardly looks celebratory."

He smirked, "You've obviously never been on a pirate ship."

In the few moments of silence that followed, Wendy realized suddenly that the man was no longer looking at her in anger. He still had not backed away. His hook still rested on her hip and his hand on her upper arm, however, his grip had loosened considerably. She could push him away if she wanted to, and yet, even with frustration he inspired in her, she didn't want to move. For some reason, she liked being close to him. There was a spark of indecision in his eyes as he brought his hand up to her face. It hung in the air a few inches from her skin like a puppet abandoned mid-action. _What is he doing?_

The Captain's fingers hesitantly caressed her cheek, following the path from her cheekbone down the side of her face. Wendy closed her eyes and nuzzled her head into his hand, giving him permission to touch her. His fingers slid into her hair and tangled themselves in her glossy locks. The hooked hand moved around her waist and pulled her closer to him. "I don't want you to leave, Wendy Darling," he breathed into her ear. His lips met hers briefly and then more forcibly. "Say you'll stay with me."

She was dazed from the kiss and didn't answer for several seconds. "I'll stay."

He kissed her again, languidly. It was tender and almost loving. Her mind reeled from the feel of being so close to him. His bare chest pressed against her fully clothed form. Her arms had gone around his neck at some point, fingers toying with his curls. _What would Aunt Milicent think? _She blinked as he pulled away. His hand loosened itself from her hair and both arms fell to his side. There was a strange expression on his face. There was longing in his eyes. For the first time, Captain Hook looked vulnerable. "Thank you," he said softly, before turning and leaving the cabin.

His shifts in mood were so sudden that Wendy felt completely confused. When she entered the cabin he was drinking himself into a depressed stupor, then he was threatening her very life, before suddenly kissing her. It didn't make any sense. She ran after him, scanning the deck for him. She spotted him sitting in the shade of one of the masts; his head bent forward and his hair shielding his face from view. He sat with one leg straight and the other pulled close to his chest, with both arms loosely draped around it.

The crew, she noticed, kept well away from the man. Experience told them that he was still as dangerous as ever. She made her way slowly towards him. "Leave me be," he said when she was only a few paces away.

"No. You thanked me. Why?"

"There must be a reason for manners now?" he evaded.

Wendy was so confused and frustrated that she felt like slapping him. "For what did I deserve your thanks?"

He stood slowly, drawing himself up to his full height. He looked down at her. Emotions she had no name for were swimming in his bright eyes. "You are pure, while I rot with sin," he looked at his hook, briefly, "You are whole, while I am lacking. You are young--there is much out in the world for you-- the real world. I have lasted centuries and likely will last centuries more on a cursed island ruled by a child. An angel stands before me, the monster, and yet she stays."

That look; for now she could name the emotions, nearly brought tears to her eyes. There was such a complete longing and a promise of perpetual despair in his gaze. Wendy reached up to brush a strand of hair away from his forehead. "You are no monster, James Hook. You play the role that was pushed upon you."

He sighed, looking like a lost child, "I have played this role for so long, I hardly remember how to be anything else."

Wendy put her arms around his waist, knowing he needed comfort that he wouldn't ask for. His body was tense, but only for a short time. He relaxed and brought his arms around her, careful of his hook, and pulled her closer. She cared for this man more than she ever thought was possible. He needed her and she would be there for him. They stood together in a tight embrace with the world around them completely absent. Wendy Darling closed her eyes and did not dare hope that Captain James Hook could ever love her in return.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaim: I officially disclaim this unofficial story.

There was something wrong with him. Something new. Something different. He couldn't imagine what it could be and it was driving him mad. Days had gone by since he'd told the storyteller to stay with him. He told himself that he was drunk at the time. He didn't know what he was saying. He couldn't possibly be fond enough of her to want her on his ship. If she left, however...

It brought an unpleasant feeling to his gut.

They had not spoken of the incident, instead falling back into the old routine of when she'd unexpectedly arrived. It was comfortable. He was content. He shouldn't be.

He'd noticed that the darkness in him, the murderous rage, had receded. It was still there. He could feel it clawing at his mind like a wild creature from hell, but it was no longer lingering just beyond the surface. It felt like freedom. He had control over himself once more. He breathed a sigh of relief. He refused to think of what may have been the cause. If he dwelt on it, he was afraid that his mind would return to chaos. He could not live like that. He refused to.

So he tended to his crew. He ate with Ms. Darling in his cabin. She would tell him stories in return for his company. She would climb into his bed to sleep. Later into the night, he would join her. It was odd to him that they shared a bed. He ignored the congratulatory looks his crew gave him when they saw her in his company. They thought he'd taken her as his lover. How wrong they were. He hasn't touched her. Not in that way. It would feel too much like he was sullying her. He couldn't do that. He had no right.

The storyteller would touch him, though. Small, intoxicating, caresses. She would place her hand on his. She would brush away the ebony curls that fell into his face. She would run her fingers across his soul, until he squirmed inside with exquisite delight. He would flinch and she would think him paranoid and unable to trust her. Thanks be to God that she couldn't possibly understand the real reason. She wouldn't believe it otherwise.

Hook looked up from his place at the rail. It was she who ruled his thoughts standing only paces away bathed in the crimson glow of the setting sun. She took his breath away. "Captain," she greeted.

He nodded in acknowledgment, not trusting himself to speak lest he say something he would regret.

"Mr. Smee told me that you enjoy the sunset."

It was neutral. Always neutral. He could deny it or not. He didn't deny it. "It reminds me of home."

She looked positively curious, leaning towards him as if he were whispering. "Home?"

"In England. I remember my mother used to sit in the garden and watch as the sun set." It was the only thing he clearly remembered from childhood. A woman who he instinctively knew to be his mother sitting amidst roses, rosemary, and rue. Her face would be drawn up, like a flower's, to the sun. Her eyes were closed and there was an aura of complete serenity around her.

"Did you watch it with her?"

He shook his head. "I don't remember. I don't think so."

"You must have loved her very much to still remember her."

He looked out across the sea to the rippling reflection of the sun's radiance. "I must have."

Her hand rested on his, innocent and beautiful. They stood in silence until the stars emerged and the sun had long disappeared over the horizon. She then took his hand and led him to bed, where she quickly fell into slumber. He lay there with his thoughts and the knowledge that she promised to stay with him.

The next day started as any other. There was no warning to precede the flaming rain of arrows that fell from the sky in deadly arcs. The crew stood, staring as their home caught fire, for a few moments, unable to believe their eyes. Nothing like this had ever happened in all their centuries in Neverland.

"Fire!"

The cry, coming from a pirate quicker than the rest set the others scurrying. They ran, grabbing buckets and hauling water, to put out the danger. None of them jumped ship--each knew that if they survived the swim to shore they would never be welcomed back aboard. Hook disappeared briefly before returning on deck, sword in hand and shouting orders. He'd told the storyteller to stay put, hoping that she would obey and stay safe. There was another volley of flaming arrows. This wave being much larger than the preceding one. Hook scanned the island and found nothing out of the ordinary. He looked to the water. Not far from his ship was a navy of canoes packed with Natives.

"Half of you take care of the fires! Man the cannons! Arm thyselves!" It was just as he finished giving out his orders that he heard the childish laugh of his mortal enemy. He looked up to see Pan and his Lost Boys fly overhead, dropping flaming foliage onto the deck. They landed behind him and scattered to find opponents among the busy pirates.

Hook gritted his teeth. The fires were getting worse. If the crew couldn't put most of them out soon he would have to send someone for the storyteller and abandon ship. He pushed the thought away and ran for Pan, snarling. The boy jumped into the air laughing and mocking him. He could not hear what the boy said. The darkness crept in and Hook welcomed it. The boy would die for setting fire to his ship. For putting he and his crew in danger. For putting Wendy in danger.

He waited, on guard, for the boy's descent. His mind screamed at him. "Kill the boy. Rip out his heart. Spill his blood. Kill. Kill. Kill!" Around him there were other screams from adults and children alike. Natives climbed the railing of the _Jolly Roger_, knives in teeth--deadly. Man and boy choked and coughed on the billowing, black smoke.

Pan charged. He swooped down and without stopping landed running straight toward him. Hook side-stepped and brought his elbow down on the boy's back, just below his neck. The child staggered, but kept his feet under him. "What's the matter, Hook? Too old to put up a real fight?"

The pirate captain growled, but did not take the bait. "Wait. Wait. Wait. He will come to me. The stupid child will come. He _will_ come. He will die."

The boy did come, attempting to strike as he ran forward. Hook parried the blow and reached out to slice him with his hook. Pan leaped back, barely managing to get out of range. Hook gave him no time to recover--went at him with both cutlass and hook. Surprised, the boy took to the air. Stunned at the man's bad form, he fell when he hit his head hard on a mast.

"Finally," his mind whispered. "_Finally_. Kill him."

He brought his sword up for the final blow, but something caught his eye before he could deliver it.

Wendy Darling.

The storyteller ran between a grappling pirate and Lost Boy, attempting to protect the child. All thought of Pan vanished when he saw the other child, not older than twelve years of age, thrust his dagger into her side. Her eyes went wide, suddenly staring into his, as she fell against the railing. She clutched herself as the blood spilled over her fingers. The boy pushed her backwards and suddenly she was falling, ever so slowly. Hook watched, transfixed as the pirate attempted to grab her. There was a splash, barely audible. The pirate yelled and ran the boy through.

Hook ran for the railing and jump over it, diving ungracefully into the water after her. Nothing. He came up for air. Descended again. He grabbed the skirt of her dress. Arm around her waist. Resurfaced. He swam, careful to keep her head above the water. She was breathing--harsh gasps against his skin.

He pulled her ashore. His hand was frantic as he looked at her wound. She would live if he could get the bleeding to stop. She'd lost a lot as it was. Her arm came up, weakly, and her hand fell upon his face. He looked up, his crimson gaze meeting her dulling emerald. His movements stopped. Time froze. There was only this girl, his angel, and himself.

She slowly shook her head, telling him without words that it was useless to continue. She would die. He shook his head, violently._ No! You can't die! You promised! You promised not to leave me!_

His angel smiled sadly, caressing his cheek slowly with her thumb. "I will always love you, Captain Hook."

Her arm slid down and he caught it, grasping it tightly. Her eyes slipped closed and she sighed. She was gone. He slowly pulled her body towards him, embracing her as tightly as he could. Willing time to reverse and her soul to return. "No" his breath was but a whisper over the surf, "I love you, Wendy Darling, can't you see? Don't leave me."

The fighting on the water continued unabated. There was no one to notice Captain Hook's anguish as he held his angel. Or that his eyes leaked blood.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: And I still don't own anything...

Oh, how her head hurt. She wanted to sink into the warm surf of unconsciousness, where she could ride with the waves of comfort and quiet...

Something called to her--a drop of sunlight in the pool of black. She turned her face from it and drifted off.

There were voices now. They echoed in the expanse. Her name. Always her name. "Wendy."

"Wendy."

"_Wendy_..."

She tried to ignore it, but it only became more and more persistent. There was nothing in this darkness. Nobody to say her name so she reluctantly climbed out of the all encompassing black and searched for the voices. Her eyes slowly opened. It was quiet once more. There was no one calling for her. _Where am I?_

She viewed her surroundings. She recognized this place. The familiar stacks of books placed on every available space. The desk, a chaotic mess of spare paper, much of it written on in her own loopy hand. This was her room. In England. With this realization, there was a sudden tsunami of memory. The _Jolly Roger_. Fire. Raging battle. The Lost Boy. The dagger. Pain. Water. Frantic crimson eyes. Nothing. She sat forward with a gasp.

Hook! The image of him, his frightened expression as he leaned over her, refused to wash away. Why wasn't she dead? Why wasn't she in Neverland? What happened to the Captain? She looked down at herself, felt where she'd been wounded. No pain. Nothing. Almost frantically, she moved the fabric of the nightdress to see the skin. Unmarred. Could she possibly have dreamed the whole adventure? No. No, she couldn't accept that it could have been just a dream. Everything had been so real.

A clattering on her right caught her attention. A short woman with long hair tied tightly behind her stood in the doorway, carrying a pitcher on a tray. She stopped when she saw Wendy looking at her, nearly dropped the tray, and all but ran from the room. Wendy recognized her, but had never remembered her name. She was the maid who had been hired when Nanna died a few years ago.

"What is it, Henrietta? I cannot understand you when you speak so quickly!" Wendy's mother came in, Henrietta pulling at her sleeve. The maid ceased her incomprehensible French and pointed to Wendy.

"Hello, Mother," Wendy said quietly. She was feeling decidedly dazed and confused.

"Wendy!" Her mother nearly launched herself at her, squealing like a school girl."Oh, Wendy! My darling!"

She found herself locked in her mother's tight embrace, listening as love and comfort was whispered into her ear. "I've missed you so much! When you disappeared, we had no idea where you might have gone! There have been searches, but nothing came of them. Oh, my dear Wendy!"

Wendy pulled back, searching her mother's teary eyes. "How long have I been away?"

"Nearly two months. When that poor man brought you here we were all so happy!"

Her breath caught and she nearly choked on her words as she asked, "What man?"

Henrietta was still in the doorway and Wendy's mother sent her to "fetch him, please."

"He's barely left your side, the poor dear. Must have hit his head, because he asked the most peculiar questions. I sent him to rest for a few hours. I do hope he's feeling better."

Wendy hardly heard a word her mother said. She couldn't breathe; couldn't think. Could it really be him? Henrietta came in, pulling another victim by the sleeve, speaking hurriedly. There was nothing different about him. He wore a loose shirt, open at the neck, and tan breeches. His long hair fell about his face in loose curls. The hook still gleamed by his side.

He was here! In England! He didn't seem to be hurt in anyway. However, his shoulders drooped with fatigue. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He had yet to look in her direction. "What is the matter? I can't understand a word when she speaks so hastily," he said to her mother.

"James," she said gently and motioned towards the bed. "Wendy has awakened."

He froze, his entire body tense. Slowly, as if reluctant to, he turned. His gaze was steady--the forget-me-not betraying nothing. Her mother smiled knowingly and exited, taking Henrietta with her. "How are you?" Hook asked, finally.

"Physically, I am very fine. Better than fine. Otherwise, I'm only severely confused."

"It's to be expected. Not even I fully understand it."

"What happened?"

He rubbed at the back of his neck, thinking. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a storyteller. We were on the beach. You were..." he paused, swallowing thickly, "Dead. You were dead. No breath. No heartbeat. "I don't know how long we were there. Long past when the Natives and Pan retreated," he smirked at that, but a frown appeared with the next thought. "There was a... light. Like faerie dust. I don't know where it came from or why. It was soft at first, but grew gradually blinding. I had to shield my eyes. The next thing I saw were children playing. In Kensington Gardens. You were... breathing again."

There was an awed silence where each took in the information. "How did you know where to go?" Wendy asked.

"There has been a lot of excitement due to your disappearance, my beauty. It wasn't difficult to find someone who knew where the Darling residence is."

There were so many things she wanted to know--needed to know. She knew the Captain felt the same. They would never quite understand how any of it happened. "How are you?" she asked when she could think of nothing else. Those haunting crimson eyes still stared at her when her eyes closed.

He blinked, surprised by the question. He took a breath, let it out. Tension seemed to flow out of him in a steady stream. "I'm free," he said, as if tasting the words for the first time. "No more Neverland. No mermaids. No Natives. No Pan."

"What will you do now that you're in England?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I've been learning as much as I can since we arrived. Everything is so different. So new..." he trailed off. Wendy noticed that for the first time since she met him, he looked genuinely happy. There was a new glint in his eyes; new color to his pale skin. His perpetual anger was missing--no longer present at all.

He looked at her suddenly, intently, before looking away. He was excited, but hesitant. Wendy smiled, knowing that he must have thought of something to ask her. "Yes?"

He started and looked to her again. "Do you remember the promise you gave me?" He didn't wait for her to answer, "You said you would always stay with me."

Wendy remembered, "Yes, I did."

"Do you still mean to?"

Blushing, Wendy asked, "Do you still wish me to?"

Seeing her nervousness, he came to her, kneeling before the bed. "Oh yes, my beauty. Ever so much so."

Her heart flipped, like a dolphin in the sparkling surf. Her hand came up to gently caress his face. "I love you, James Hook."

Hope flooded his gaze and he took her hand in his. "I love you more than I can ever hope to express in words, Wendy Darling. I know that I'm a difficult man. The madness is gone. I can no longer feel it. However, I have always been quick-tempered and bitter."

He paused and searched her eyes, "Will you...? Could you ever...?" he pulled her close so that his arms were wrapped around her waist and his head bent so that he could softly ask in her ear, "Would you marry me Wendy? Would you spend eternity with me?"

Happy tears welled in her eyes. "Eternity is such a long time," she felt his body tense around her, "but I fear it may never be quite long enough. Of course I will marry you, James!"

He embraced her, tightly, and kissed her.

Before she fell completely into the kiss, Wendy thought, _Life with James Hook will be an awfully big adventure_.

A shadow moved in the window behind the pair that neither of the lovers noticed. "She really loves him, doesn't she?" Peter Pan cocked his head to the side, curiously. This window wasn't the nursery window. Nights of looking in and watching her tell stories were long gone. She and her brothers, even his old Lost Boys, had all grown up. Sometimes though, he would visit this window and listen to her read aloud.

He had never really forgotten her. Not entirely. Who could ever forget the storyteller who had almost persuaded him that to grow up would bot be so bad. He smirked. He is Peter Pan and he will never grow up. Not even for a storyteller. Not even for Wendy. He heard Tink's jingle of assent. He knew that this was all her doing. She brought Wendy to Hook; took both of them from Neverland.

He glanced at his faerie understanding her reasoning. She wanted him all to herself and she could never have that when he was in danger from Hook. Or when he spent many an hour discussing the pirate captain--obsessing with the game. The game was over now. There would always be other games. He would not worry. He gave a nod to the couple beyond the glass in silent farewell. Then he turned to Tinkerbell and laughed at the face she'd been making at him.

"You'll never catch me, Tink!" He sped off, knowing that his faerie would always be right behind him. It was like Wendy's stories. Everyone would live 'happily ever after.'

0o0o0o0o0

Final note from the author:

Thank you all so very much for reading this. It's been a few years since I finished this fanfiction and I've just gone back and fixed a few things. I know there are still some typos and errors. I'll go back and fix those as they're pointed out to me. I never expected this many people would enjoy _Caring for Hook_ and I'm eternally grateful to each of you for lending your support. Thank you once again.

May life always be an adventure.


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